


never let me hit the ground

by pirateygoodness



Series: if you never run (how are they going to catch you alive) [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Doomworld Verse, Episode: s02e16 Doomworld, F/F, Murder Girlfriends, Oral Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: They kill Felicity Smoak for Damien. Sara takes them both out for milkshakes and fries. It’s just what they do. (Spoilers for 2.16, Doomworld)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Higher" by Carly Rae Jepsen, because she is my eternal soundtrack for these two.

They kill Felicity Smoak for Damien. Sara takes them both out for milkshakes and fries. It’s just what they do. 

There’s this diner downtown, halfway between their place and City Hall. They make the best strawberry shakes in the entire universe. (Well, strawberry for Amaya. Sara gets vanilla, and Amaya teases her about it every time. It’s just what they do.)

They sit in their usual booth, a corner table by the door with good views of all the entrances, because they may be in love but they’re not _stupid_ , no matter what other people say about them. Their food arrives; two milkshakes and a plate of fries to share, and the smell of it warms Amaya right down to her toes. 

Sara twirls her ponytail, stares at Amaya’s tits as she tells her, “You did so good today, babe. I’m so proud of you.” 

Amaya smiles, blushes. Sara always was the talkative one. So expressive, so _good_ with telling Amaya how she feels, and it’s not that Amaya _doesn’t_ , it’s just that she doesn’t like to use words. She prefers action over talk. But she smiles into her milkshake, lets the warmth of Sara’s pride fill her chest. 

There’s a cherry on the top of Sara’s milkshake, shiny red on top, and Amaya reaches over to steal it. “You always know just what to say,” she murmurs around cherry and sugar and salt. 

Sara sets her hand on the table, an offer. Amaya accepts, covers Sara’s hand with her own. Her blood is still buzzing, the adrenaline of the chase, the kill, nowhere near out of her system. It’s mixing with the buzz of the sugar, the high of Sara watching her with hungry eyes, until Amaya feels like she could almost float away. 

They linger until Amaya’s milkshake is half-finished, and the plate of fries is nearly done. Until Sara starts licking her lips a little too often and calling Amaya _sweetheart_ , which is when Amaya knows it’s time to get the bill. 

(A figure of speech; the whole town knows they work for the mayor. They haven’t properly paid for their own milkshakes in _months_.)

Amaya signals to the waiter, leaves a tip plus a little extra in cash on the table. She barely manages to put her money away before Sara’s dragging her, whispering, “I’ve got plans for you, sweetheart, let’s go.” 

Amaya shivers. She always does like it best when Sara has plans. 

 

Their home - _the lair_ , Sara calls it - is one room with a bed and the world’s most spartan kitchen, and a bathroom down the hall. They don’t have much in the way of furniture; nothing more than they need. 

Amaya makes her way to the weapons trunk, unloads her guns, divests herself of everything she usually brings on a job. She’s practiced at it now, but it still takes a few minutes, every time. From behind her, she can hear the gentle clink of Sara’s belt, knows she’s doing the same thing. The adrenaline of the night has largely worn off, slowed to a gentle hum in her veins. But Amaya can hear Sara undressing behind her, and it’s setting a different kind of excitement rushing through her, making her restless. 

The toy trunk is under the bed, and Amaya doesn’t have to look to know that Sara’s making her way there, next. A good kill always leaves Sara at her most creative, and Amaya can already feel herself getting wet, eager for her girl and whatever she’s got planned. 

Sara sidles up behind Amaya and wraps herself around her, front to back. One hand teases at the waistband of Amaya’s leggings, nails dragging across the soft skin of her belly. Amaya sighs, shudders her hips backward into Sara. “You’re so pretty,” Sara murmurs. 

“Thank you,” Amaya whispers. This is building to something - a suggestion, a demand - and Amaya can hardly think straight for all the anticipation. 

“I think you’re gonna fuck me, tonight.” Sara sing-songs. “You up for that, sweetheart?” 

Amaya turns in Sara’s arms. Sara’s already holding the gear; Amaya’s harness and Sara’s favourite dildo dangling from her free hand. “ _Yes_ ,” she says. “Always, for you.” 

Sara lights up. Amaya feels an answering light glowing behind her ribs, delight and pride at making Sara look so happy with her. “Oh, honey,” Sara says. Her voice is sugar-sweet and a little breathless, a contrast to the way that she starts tearing at Amaya’s jacket. “I can’t wait.” 

Amaya laughs, takes the harness and dildo in both hands so that Sara can undress her. Their work suits look _great_ , but getting in and out of them is a bit of a project - the top zips at the back and there are hooks to keep it held shut, and it’s a few minutes of fumbling before Sara manages it. Her hands are shaky as she works, Amaya can feel it in her touch. That’s half the fun. 

She loves this part, the moments _before_ , when Sara is breathless and eager and all of her attention gets fixed right on Amaya. She loves it almost as much as she loves everything that comes after. 

Her tank falls away, and Sara immediately moves lower, peeling Amaya’s leggings and underwear down her legs. She tugs until they’re at her ankles, and Amaya can step out of them. It leaves Sara down at her knees, looking up at Amaya’s nakedness, and the grin on her face is pure eagerness, so full of lust that Amaya can’t help but smile back. 

As Sara stands, she leaves little touches, feather-light across Amaya’s legs, her abdomen, her back. 

When she’s back at Amaya’s eye level, she’s fully dressed and Amaya is naked, the room air chilly on her skin. She’s still holding that handful of toys, pink leather and silicone tangled around her fingers, and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. 

Sara takes a step back to really look at her, to take Amaya in from head to toe. Her mouth curls into a smile, one that Amaya recognizes. The smile that Sara always saves just for her. 

Sara closes the space between them, bringing herself near enough that Amaya can feel the smoothness of Sara’s leggings against the skin of her thighs. She slips her hand in between their bodies, tucking it in between Amaya’s legs and up against her cunt. Amaya’s already wet for her, excited from the fight and full of anticipation and Sara finds it, slips her fingers in between her lips. She draws the slickness forward, giving her enough lubrication to rub at Amaya’s clit. It’s _wonderful_ , touch that seems to radiate through Amaya’s cunt and down to her toes, so overwhelming that she nearly falls over. “ _Oh_ ,” Amaya huffs, suddenly bracing herself on Sara’s shoulders. 

Sara chuckles. “You excited to fuck me?” she asks. Her pupils are dark and she’s got her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard. She looks more than ready, but even now she’s still teasing, still making Amaya ask for it. 

Amaya doesn’t answer with words. She answers by grabbing the back of Sara’s head, pulling her into a kiss that’s half-teeth, rough and bruising. Sara bites at her mouth, laughs into it. 

“We’d better get you out of all this,” Amaya says, tugging at Sara’s jacket. They’re both breathless, now, eager for everything that’s about to happen. 

Sara doesn’t reply with words either, but she nods and rolls her shoulders backward, giving Amaya better access. It’s Sara’s turn to hold the toys as Amaya takes her jacket by the collar, eases her out of it. 

Undressing Sara is a process, and Amaya lets herself enjoy it. She kisses the whole width of Sara’s shoulders, nipping occasionally, revelling in the way that Sara’s skin blushes pink so easily underneath her mouth. She licks a line down the wings of Sara’s shoulder blades, kisses a path down her spine. She’s just so pretty, all bare skin and black leather, and she tastes like salt and gunpowder and everything Amaya’s ever wanted. 

When her mouth reaches the zipper on the back of Sara’s top, she bites at it, then tugs it down with her hands. She unhooks the clasps, lets Sara wriggle until the top is on the floor and she’s naked from the waist up. Sara’s breasts are _wonderful_ , Amaya’s favourite pair in the whole world, next to her own. Amaya reaches around to Sara’s front and palms them, squeezing and touching until Sara gasps, arching into her hands. 

She turns her head and Amaya meets her, kissing with something closer to tenderness, letting herself feel everything she feels about Sara. It’s so good, Sara’s mouth soft against her own and the warmth of her breath, a little harsh with arousal. Amaya feels all of it between her thighs, sweet and beautiful. 

She reaches down, palms the waistband of Sara’s leggings. She wants to reach into them, but there’s not enough extra space for her fingers, and she ends up letting out a frustrated sigh. Now it’s Sara’s turn to step away, to undress herself lightning-quick. 

She’s back in seconds, and when Amaya’s hand finally gets to touch her she finds Sara slippery-wet, almost dripping with arousal. Her mouth goes dry. “You feel like you’re all ready for this, babe. What do you think?”

Sara lets out a whine, gasps, “Come on, sweetheart.” She sounds too far gone to really answer; that’s how Amaya likes her best. 

Amaya pulls away and steps into the harness, adjusts the pink leather around her hips and slides the dildo inside. She buckles it around her hips, tugs the straps a few times to be sure it’s just right. The straps loop around her hips so nice, underneath her legs and around her ass, and if she presses just right she can feel the base of the dildo up against her clit. 

“You’re so pretty,” Sara says, running her fingertips down the length of the dildo, letting them drag across the sparkly silver silicone. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” 

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Amaya says, dragging Sara towards the bed. 

Sara follows. Amaya’s halfway onto the bed, when her world tilts sideways and Sara is tumbling on top of her, flipping them. She ends up on her back, with Sara straddling her lap. She’s got Amaya pinned down, one hand on each shoulder. It’s a hold she could get out of, but then again, she doesn’t have any reason to try. If Sara wants to be on top tonight, that’s just fine. 

Besides, she’s always loved the view from down here best: the long expanse of Sara’s abdomen, the softness at her hips, the curve of her breasts. And best of all: Sara smiling down at her, eager and a little bit breathless. 

Amaya reaches out, slips her fingers up against Sara’s cunt. She’s got her hips positioned just in front of the dildo, her cunt warm and wet against Amaya’s lower belly and within easy reach. Amaya’s fingers slide into her easily, two and then three, warming her up. Sara bites her lips and groans, sinks down onto Amaya’s fingers. She’s so hot, inside, so wet and velvet-soft; Amaya could touch her like this forever. 

“You ready, babe?” she murmurs and Sara just nods, rocks into Amaya’s hand. Amaya takes her fingers away, rubbing all of Sara’s slick down the length of the toy. Then she takes Sara’s hips in her hands, guiding her upward in just the right way. She holds the base of the dildo with one hand to steady it, guides it to Sara’s entrance and waits. 

Sara takes her time. She sinks down just a little, fucks herself on the head of the dildo. It’s beautiful, the sight of the toy disappearing into her cunt and the sound of her sighing at the feel of it. Amaya watches as her pace picks up, as she bites her lip and flexes her thighs, taking in more and more with each movement. She shudders, just a little, and then she lets herself sink down onto the length of it. It makes her moan, loud and breathy, and as the full size of the toy hits home she half-falls toward Amaya and grinds down, rubs her clit against Amaya’s pelvis. Amaya doesn’t think she’ll ever get sick of this, of how _pretty_ Sara can be while Amaya fucks her. 

Amaya holds Sara’s hips, lets her start to find a rhythm on her own. She waits to match it, until she knows Sara’s ready, until her groans start to change in pitch. When Sara seems like she needs it, Amaya rocks her hips just a little, thrusts upward as Sara sinks down. It makes Sara gasp, and before long, she’s crying out with every movement of Amaya’s hips. Every time she grinds down, the base of the dildo bumps into Amaya’s pelvis and it’s _not quite_ the right angle but it’s still something, still building the arousal high inside Amaya. 

Sara’s movements start to become faster, more insistent, grinding down harder with every movement. Suddenly, she cries out, sinks down hard against Amaya’s hips and rocks and rocks, her orgasm rolling over her in waves. Amaya holds Sara’s hips until she’s done, until her hips stop shuddering. She can feel Sara’s wetness on her skin, dripping down the base of the dildo and onto Amaya’s hips and it’s incredible. _She’s_ incredible. 

Sara stays like that for a while, letting herself feel, coming back to herself. Amaya rubs her back, whispers reassurance, tells her she’s beautiful over and over again until Sara opens her eyes. 

Sara lifts herself up slowly, carefully uncoupling herself from the toy and then sinking down to slump against Amaya. The dildo is resting against Sara’s hip, wetly, but Sara doesn’t seem to mind. “You,” she whispers. “How did I get to find a girl who’s so good to me?”

Amaya smiles, strokes her hair. “I was just thinking the same thing.” 

Sara is the one who takes the harness off, once she’s ready; once the afterglow has worn off enough for her to move. She starts at the straps by Amaya’s hips, unbuckling them gently. She taps, letting Amaya know when it’s time to lift her hips up and wriggle out of it. The toys go on the floor, forgotten until later. Now is Amaya’s turn. 

Sara’s always so tender, after she’s been fucked. She’s never been a person Amaya would describe as _calm_ , but sex puts her at her very gentlest. She kisses Amaya all over, starts at her mouth and moves to her throat, her collarbone, her breasts. She calls Amaya every nice name she can think of, whispering _babe_ and _sweetness_ and _sugar_ into her skin. 

Amaya lets herself be kissed, sighing in contentment. She’s already wet for this, hot for this. Sara’s kisses just build it even further, anticipation and the sweetness of arousal a persistent ache between her legs. Sara kisses her way down Amaya’s body even further, across the span of her abdomen and down to her hips. She finds the angle of Amaya’s hipbone, nips and suckles at the skin until it feels oversensitive, sore in the most delicious way, like there’s going to be a bruise there in the morning. Amaya feels a little thrill at the thought. She’s always been Sara’s girl, and she loves having the marks to prove it. 

Sara slides further down the bed, arranges herself between Amaya’s thighs with a wolfish grin. Amaya bends her knees, spreads herself open to give Sara access. Sara knows what to do. Sara always knows what to do to make Amaya feel good; all Amaya has to do is let her work. 

Sara licks her lips and leans in, and then _oh_ her mouth is against Amaya’s clit, her tongue licking against her. The touch is gentle, slow, but Amaya’s so close to the edge already that it’s enough to make her arch up, grab at the pillow with both fists. Sara’s so good to her, and Amaya hears herself start to moan, to cry out at the touch, perfect and just a little bit teasing, almost-but-not-quite. 

After a while, Amaya allows herself an impatient whimper. She wants this but she also wants _more_ , wants Sara to lick into her with purpose, wants to _come._ She reaches down, palms at Sara’s head until her hand finds Sara’s ponytail. She grips it, _tugs_ , whines pleading nonsense toward the ceiling. 

Sara laughs into Amaya’s cunt, vibration and warm air making her shudder. Something changes in the way that she’s moving her tongue, and suddenly everything feels amazing and Amaya’s coming, bright white and stars behind her eyes. Exactly what she needed. 

She lets herself breathe, looks up at the ceiling, letting shudder after shudder wash over her. Sara lingers between her thighs, licks her clean and makes sure that she feels every last aftershock. Amaya feels that, feels so dazed that she barely notices wet kisses across her belly, as Sara moves back up her body. 

When Sara reappears in Amaya’s field of view, she looks all fucked out: her eyeliner smeared, her lipstick kissed away. Her ponytail has been tugged askew, slightly loose, with stray hairs falling down around her. It’s how Amaya likes her best; a little softer, a little warmer around the edges. 

Amaya strokes her hair. “Thank you,” she tells her, and pulls her into a long, slow kiss. 

Sara melts against her, mouth soft against Amaya’s own as she cuddles in, finds the ways that their bodies fit together. “Always, for you,” she whispers. 

She tucks her head into the curve of Amaya’s shoulder, wraps her arms loosely around Amaya’s waist. Amaya, for her part, starts to work idly at Sara’s hair. There are bobby pins first, then an elastic, and then Sara’s hair is free, falling loose over her shoulders. She works her hands through it, combing with her fingers. Sara hums in delight, cuddles closer. 

Sometimes Amaya gets this weird feeling, like deja-vu, but a little different. Like maybe this isn’t how things are supposed to be. But with Sara in her arms like this, she can’t imagine the world any other way. It’s too good like this.


End file.
